In its first two seasons on NBC, "The Flip Wilson Show" was the second-most watched program on TV. His comic characters spawned two of the medium's hottest catchphrases, "The devil made me do it" and "What you see is what you get!" (The latter lives on in its acronym, a computer application that allows you to see what a document you're working on will look like - WYSIWYG.) He jump-started the careers of the two biggest names in comedy, George Carlin and Richard Pryor. In January 1972, Time magazine had him on the cover, calling him "TV's First Black Superstar."

And then, basically, he quit. Pulled the plug on his show, cut back on stand-up work. Didn't write a memoir or try to host a talk show.

By the time of his death of liver cancer in 1998 at age 64, Wilson was a pop-culture footnote; today, 15 years later, he's nearly forgotten.

Kevin Cook's new biography "Flip: The Inside Story of TV's First Black Superstar," is a reminder that he shouldn't be.

Cook tells the comedian's story, from horrific childhood to hard-fought fame to long, slow fade-out. Even with help from Wilson's son, Kevin, that story includes plenty of the comic's not-so-funny side - a private world driven by substance abuse, selfishness and distrust.

Wilson's dark side was rooted in a Dickensian childhood. When he was 7 or 8, his mother cleared out the family's apartment, drained her husband's bank account and ran off with another man - leaving Flip and his nine siblings with nothing. After living in basements, tool sheds and coal bins, the kids were parceled out to relatives and foster families.

Lying about his age to escape, 16-year-old Wilson enlisted in the Air Force. There, he developed an affinity for drugs (pot, but not heroin - he decided heroin inhibited his sense of humor) and the other high he got - from making people laugh. After leaving the service, he set out to become a famous comedian, but, after a decade playing clubs, his career couldn't get any traction.

Then, one night in 1965, fellow stand-up Redd Foxx was on "The Tonight Show." Johnny Carson asked Foxx, "Who's the funniest comedian out there right now?" Foxx, without missing a beat, answered, "Flip Wilson." From there, there was no stopping him: Wilson did Carson and Ed Sullivan's show, became a top headliner, landed a couple of high-rated TV specials and, in 1970, his own prime- time variety show.

Part of the charm of "The Flip Wilson Show" was that it was at once a throwback - a mix of sketches, showbiz legends and rising stars - and something new. The latter was mostly thanks to Wilson's eye for young talent, and his eagerness to give performers of color an overdue shot at a prime-time audience.

Wilson revived the career of crooner Bobby Darin - Darin's appearances landed him his own prime-time variety show - and made a household name out of aging chitlin-circuit legend Moms Mabley. He added Carlin and Pryor - both comics were having a hard time trying to bring more contemporary, and drug-stoked, comedy to their acts - as writers and regular performers on the show.

But Wilson was the glue that held it all together. Cook recounts - bolstered by interviews with several Wilson collaborators, including Tim Conway and Lily Tomlin - the comedian's tireless efforts to shape each program, from editing each script to handpicking the guests.

And he created a raft of characters - especially Geraldine Jones, the dress-wearing, trash-talking street girl, and the Reverend Leroy, of the Church of What's Happening Now - that were among the early 1970s' most popular personas.

Behind that happy screen personality, however, was a man in constant struggle. He distrusted everyone, and frequently raged over real and perceived slights. He drank and smoked pot heavily, training his young sons to roll his joints for him.

All that was hidden from audiences. In its first season, "The Flip Wilson Show" was the second-highest-rated program on TV, and won an Emmy for best variety show; the next year, it was No. 2 again.

But after the show's ratings declined the next two seasons, NBC called for cuts. Instead of cutting, Wilson quit.

He continued to work - he did a few specials, a couple big-screen cameos, a failed sitcom in the 1980s - but, as recounted by Cook, Wilson spent most of his time doing whatever he felt like, including lots of golf and bowling, riding motorcycles, a revolving door of spouses/girlfriends and, until he found out he had cancer in 1998, plenty of boozing and drugs.

Cook doesn't come right out and say it, but Wilson's self-imposed exile more than anything else contributed to his fade from pop-culture consciousness, even though his variety show has been in syndication since the 1980s - it now airs on Aspire, a channel available on digital cable and satellite services that's aimed at African-American families.

That, as "Flip" illustrates, is our nostalgia-fueled culture's loss. Because as this portrait shows, what you saw wasn't all you got.

Editor's note: An earlier version of this story incorrectly credited Flip Wilson's characters with the catchphrase, "Here come da judge." While Wilson and other s, especially Sammy Davis Jr., helped popularize it on "Laugh-In," the phrase originated years earlier with comedian Pigmeat Markham.

About Chris Foran

Chris Foran is an assistant entertainment editor, overseeing the Tap Weekend, Tap Daily, Good Morning and TV Cue sections. He also writes about movies, books, pop culture and fun stuff to do in Milwaukee.